King Kalibo sheds a tear.
Waits for Rita to appear.
Sits in pain
and waits all day.
Minutes, hours,
pass away.

Staring at the shaking walls,
waiting for his soul to fall.
Like a star falls,
in the night.
Slowly drifting
out of sight.

Through the ages
and the years.
Swollen smiles and swelling tears.
He learnt this life is just a game.
And no one lives
this life the same.

King Kalibo can't hang on,
Rita cried and now she's gone.
Castle crumbles
to the ground.
King Kalibo
can't be found.

Beneath the rubble,
lies a crown.
A broken heart,
a crying clown.
The earth absorbs remorseful tears.
A kingdom mourns with cautious fear.

Time shall tell,
what lies ahead.
Time will tell,
what had been said.
Words that slit a kingdoms throat,
dwell in the air, as tension floats.

Kalibo now,
no longer heard.
His words,
gone with the stolen herd.
Rita,
woman of betrayal.
In her quest she did not fail.

Standing tall,
forever rich.
Fated, to be no one's *****.
With her new life,
and her new love.
Still she fears, what waits above.

Upon the fringes,
all that hinges.
On the love, and on the hate.
The daily toll,
the time we own,
the time we spend, inside our heads.
Every notion,
herbs and potions.
Things that help us, through the day.
Time and moments,
try to own them.
Learn to live, without the pain.

May in Clane, and all the rain,
plays melodies,
upon the pain.
Upon the soil,that soaks it in,
I sit and watch ,all soaked in gin.
The tapping on the sill outside
distracts a mind
that's trying to find.
Reasons not to laugh out load
among a lost and vacant crowd.

Then it calms and brings the morn,
reflections of the day we're born.
As summer takes the joys of spring,
rejoice the truths that bloom within.
For truth alone will set us free,
help us live in harmony.
See harmony,
it makes the song
that carries all of us along.

The melting *** and rolled up snot,
gathered,
underneath the tables.

That old high stool,
that graced this fool,
was winning,
willing,
always able!

A tender ear,
tendering!
with his shillings for a smile.
That tenderness, he always sought,
but was never! gonna find.

The dreams that seemed so reachable,
always after one more glass.
The moments that he longed for,
moments that had long since passed.

Every man must faulter.
Live in the shadows,
shadows cast.
Those moments that he longed for,
hidden,
  lost upon his path.

Broken are the roses.
The garden doesn't seem the same.
And every breeze that passes through,
forever,
whispering your name.
And then there comes the moments,
The ones
where one
feels all alone.
Lost upon the roses,
where memories were born and grown.

Maybe I could plant one now
And you can help it grow.
You can bring the sunshine,
the light that melts the Winter's snow.
Upon those cold oul mornings,
when we feel
lost and afraid.
You'll be growing roses,
shining through the mornings haze.

The journey,
starting,
with your eyes.
That's  where I swim through.
Through your heart,
and through your mind.
That's where I find you.
Deep within those caverns,
that's where our true beauty lies.
Deep within the bond we have,
It's written in your hazel eyes.
And as we rest together.
Two souls,
underneath the stars.
I thank the Angels on our backs.
Thank the Lord we've got this far.
Here in synchronicity,
two souls, underneath the sky.
I thank the Devil on our back,
the one that made us wonder why.

The Cut.
The Cold.
The feel of Steel.
The sharpness,
that keeps it all real.
The feelings,
pulsing through your veins,
as you try to smile in vain.

The Love.
The Hate.
The need for words.
The hope,
that everything is pure.
The darkness
curtaining the light,
as the day gives way to night.

The Morn.
The Dawn.
The waking soul.
Shaking,
falling through the floor.
The path,
the one, that leads you home,
will always be, the one you own.

They tell us heroes died for this,
the freedom that we own.
The freedom of a broken man,
trying to keep his home.
They tell us we're the lucky ones,
tell us tales of war and fear.
"This how it's meant to be,
take a seat and pour a beer."
Forget about your worries,
forget the light that shines within.
Its all about the money,
all about the need to win.
But if we start to filter,
the light that brightens all our souls,
maybe we can make a change,
maybe we could be the ones.
A sacred generation,
with our masts against the wind.
Maybe we could be the ones,
burying the ancient sins.

"It's great to be alive,"
she said......

Then she went
and broke his heart......

A hook,
upon each line
that's thread....
Catching out
each word that's fed.

The memories
the darkness.
That seem to swallow up the night.
Fall into a broken space.
Nothing's wrong
and nothing's right.

The weight
of the unknowing,
So different,
inside every mind.
The want
of love and growing.
The hope that follows
every fight.

Swallows swoop
upon the green,
before they say
goodbye again
Wings upon the same old skies,
feathers
and an empty pen.

So Many pseudoskeptics
in a world that's ****** hectic.
We're drowning in their slurry
without an antiseptic
Its Cancerous
how much they chance on us.
The cure is in the garden,
but they're killing all the plants on us.
Traditions and renditions
of stories and of ways.
They're being lost
diluted,
polluted,
as we graze away.
Like Cattle,
the battle
seems lost before its fought,
forgetting all the lessons
which mother earth has taught.
We're slipping
and we're tripping,
and I hope the landings soft.
I hope to leave a world behind
where hope is never fraught.

Underneath a Blood Red Moon,
another good one,
gone to soon.
A candle quenched,
upon the night.
Somewhere else,
might find a light.
A flicker,
In the distant skies.
Sometimes
there's no reasons why.
No salvation to be found.
No reasons
for the heart that pounds.

Sitting by her empty pond,
A thousand thoughts
lost to the wind.
She wonders where it all began,
she wonders,
will it ever end.

An empty teapot on the table,
She wonders,
is she really able.
Everything that was, once was.
Now she's haunted by
Because.

Because
she sees,
a different future.
A place to hide
and ancient furniture.
Covered in a dust
that lies.
The sorrow lost behind her eyes.

The snow falls gently,
then to melt,
candles on the alters felt.
Every moment of their burning,
for a reason,
never yearning.
Burning brightly till their end,
then to fade,
the light they send.
In the darkness
stillness brings,
her voice to me,
and how she sings.
She singing bout the Sun and Stars
how our souls have traveled far.
Passed the Moon,
the Milky Way,
she says we will return someday.
Singing songs that show the way.

I've a feeling I've been at war before,
but I couldn't say which one.
I sometimes hear the rattle,
the chorus of the gun.

Its resonates inside my dreams,
I own a different face.
Still I have a feeling
my soul was at this place.

Where children on the street are crying,
some don't cry at all.
Bodies in the rubble,
far to young to fall.

Upon the reign, the greed of men,
the power that they crave.
The forgotten leaves of autumn,
fall softly on their graves.

A part of me remembers,
the horror and the pain.
Fighting for the right to live
crying in the rain.

In some trench, under some flag,
a long long time ago.
Those forgotten comrades,
dying in the snow.

It's those forgotten comrades now,
in my dreams they glow.
Those lost forgotten comrades,
dying in the snow.



#WAR  #DREAMS

The trees, they're sitting still again,
the wind has long since died.
A distant look upon her face,
a shadow in her mind.
She's living life,
forgiving,
and she's trying to be kind,
but sometimes there's emotions,
that the face can never hide.
There's petals on the lawn again,
The roses ruffled,
now they're  still.
Inside her heart
she fills the void.
She battling her time to ****.
The trees, they're sitting still again,
until the winds return once more.
A heart that's never skipped a beat,
Is always gonna yearn for more.

Some people spend their money,
trying to buy a piece of time.
Other souls are clocking in,
trying to raise an honest dime.
And sometimes its not funny,
the way our hours are torn away.
Outside, its so sunny,
but we're like birds
inside a cage.
Nurtured with a number,
an I.D, to make sure we pay.
From the first breath that we take,
till the one that meets the grave.
But nowt can't steal the thunder
the energy that carries through.
There's nothing that could ever ****,
our feelings and our right to truth.

Inspiration,
from the deepest,
darkest,
caverns of the lonely soul.
That's the inspiration,
that will guide you,
to your rightheous home.
Every situation,
hesitated with a faithfull groan,
will lead you to a place to grow.
somewhere safe
where your alone.
All the desperation.
The voice among singing crowd,
leads us to a destination,
leads us to the life we own.
Still all the hesitation,
the falling of the drowning word
leads us to sorry chorus
all the broken words we've heard.

The penny dropped
the fountain stopped.
Forever, at the end of May.
The farmer praying for his crop,
praying for the rain to stop.
Forever, at the end of May.
The Angels flight,
not lost to sight.
Forever, at the end of May.
And we might close our eyes tonight.
Forever, at the end of May.

The lonely cobbled stones,
and your old lonely cobbled heart.
Surrendered to the mysteries,
always, from the very start.
The city, all around you,
the pulse, the sway,
the forming of.....
the soul that marches forward now,
lost without a glowing God.

Friday nights and neon lights
defused with time and space.
Look upon a flowing stream,
upon the human race.
The sway, the way,
the right to say.
The march it must go on.
The way we all surrender,
the way we always carry on.

Hold me as I sleep tonight,
kiss me as I slip away.
Deep within the the realms of dreams,
lie with me and end today.
Pray for me and my poor soul,
but know I love you more each day,
I'm sorry for the hurt and pain,
sorrier that I can't stay.
That darkness that has followed me,
has failed to bring those brighter days.
I'm sorry that we ever met!,
sorrier that I cant stay.

Pictureless frames on aging walls,
a floor that's crying for a sweep.
Wooden boxes, stained and small.
Empty pockets, wide and deep.
Heavenly sounds of singing sparrows,
coming through the courtyard door.
Corridors so long and narrow,
walking feet, thread no more.
That staircase that you couldn't trust,
stands defeated by the years.
This musty place has seen it all,
the joyful smiles, the tragic tears.
How sad to see it now like this,
the first place that we ever kissed.
Its sad, the things that we dismiss,
those days, those days
I'll always miss.

As the night collapses to the dawn of a new day,

I start to feel the seasons changing,

Mother Nature rearranging,

for now in gentle sways.



And as my bones lie weary,

maybe tired from the fight?

I can feel my body aging,

old thoughts and fears all rearranging.

As summers birds take flight.



So now with the Autumns harvest,

the seeds we failed to sow.

I can feel a yearning,

and life with all its learnings.

Life with all its learnings,

must surely help us grow.

There's hope upon the streets again
collective minds and hearts combined
Its in the words
the art that's brought
Out there now
for all to find
Its dances on the cobbled streets,
you the know one
"where old ghosts meet"
It sings and hums,
then melts away
"at the dawning of the day".

The blue sky faded slowly,
she tread her route upon the grass.
The Meadows growing flowers,
swaying, as they make her laugh.
The knowledge and the the knowing,
the truth that sings with every dawn.
The love of life and growing,
always there,
since she was born.
And as she's sitting gazing,
living in a thousand worlds.
She hears a voice inside her heart,
hears a voice she knows is hers.
It tells her to go forward,
tells her, what shall be will be.
Confronting all those worries,
sailing in uncharted seas.

Synchronicity and simplicity,
emanating from her core.
The kind of light
that shines so bright,
leaves me blind,
but wanting more.
Her words, reverberations,
a chorus to a learning ear.
Sometimes words are hard to find,
and sometimes words can ring so clear.

In time we learn the lessons,
the silly things that lessen us.
In time we dance in harmony,
learning,that love is a must.
Reaping all we've ever sown,
all the good and all the bad.
Thankful for the things we own,
Thankful for the love we have.

Misty morning,
coffee and regrets.
A fuzzy head,
and bleary eyes,
a pocket full of crumpled bets.
The traffic worse than ever
as time flies.
Sweaty palms, a pounding head,
searching for a cigarette.
And every light I'm hitting now is red,
its days like this I should have stayed in bed.
The mornings now,
the darkness and the rain,
the way the days are flying by,
each one seeming just the same.
I guess its just that time of year again
as winter comes and swallows everything.
I swallow down my coffee with my pride
until the spring I guess I'm gonna hide.
.

The way life has its music,
all in its own time,
in its own sweet sacred place,
the rhythm and the rhyme.
The way the weathers changing,
darker every day.
The way the Summer falls to Fall,
gently on its way.
Lost among the creases,
the pillows and the sheets.
The creases underneath our eyes,
the journeys we complete.
Each week bringing different things,
with the rhythm and the rhyme.
Changing with the way we sing,
everything within its time.

Faces reflected,
blood through time,
even though this face is mine.
I think its been here once before,
maybe twice or maybe more.
Reflected in the streams that flow,
through the ages of this earth.
Shadowing the soul that grows,
nurtured,
from the time of birth.